With Arms Wide Open
by Blackbirdox
Summary: Charlie knows he can rely on Steven for anything, assistance with child rearing included.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Dead Poets Society. Can someone just give me Charlie already?**

**A/N: I'm not sure that I actually like this but it's been sitting on my computer for weeks and I just had to do something with it. I couldn't look at it any longer so I hope that someone can enjoy it, at least. Feedback is always appreciated!**

It's rather late- or rather early- when the doorbell rings and snaps Steven out of a sound sleep. Its five past three in the morning in the middle of the winter and the moonlight is covered by thick, heavy clouds and its cold, so, so cold, and the blast of air that comes rushing inside when he opens the door has enough bite to cut him like a knife.

It's Charlie, of course- Charlie who's never had any decent sense of timing and Charlie who just sort of waltzes in and out of Steven's life whenever it's convenient for him. Charlie who looks utterly ridiculous all bundled up in a winter coat and a hat that's askew on the top of his head, exposing the tips of his ears that are growing increasingly pinker with each passing second. Charlie who just gives him this sheepish smile and, without so much as a hello, asks him if he can come inside.

Steven just stares at him, incredulous, and his eyes narrow and he's fully intent on telling him no but that's when the whimpering starts- the whimpering that turns into sniffling that turns into wailing that, oddly enough, is coming from somewhere within Charlie's coat.

Steven's jaw falls open and his eyes go from being narrowed to being wide as he watches Charlie groan in frustration and tug down the zipper just a bit more, awkwardly shifting his arms around the screaming, squirming little thing that's pressed up against his chest.

"You brought a baby?" he squeaks, thoroughly convinced he's either drunk or dreaming or maybe even both.

Charlie looks lost when he meets his gaze, eyes widened and cheeks flushed, and he just nods. "I didn't have much of a choice," he responses through chattering teeth. "So can I come in?"

Steven rubs his eyes and curses himself for getting up in the first place but, in spite of everything, he steps aside without saying another word.

/

The baby is Olivia and she's no more than a few weeks old- tiny and delicate and oh so pretty. The few tufts of hair on the top of her downy head are wispy and dirty blonde and her skin is rosy pink and its soft against Steven's as he cradles her in his arms.

Charlie is sitting beside him on the cramped little couch, bleary eyed and half asleep. His hair is unkempt and sticking out in about a thousand different directions, there's a shadow of stubble across his chin, the circles under his eyes are dark and heavy and he just looks _exhausted_- rugged and worn and like he hasn't slept in days.

And, according to what he tells Steven, he hasn't.

He yawns and rubs his tired eyes, stretching out in his seat as he tells Steven all about his drive from New York to Vermont and how Olivia had cried for what felt like the entire trip- cold and hungry and too stubborn to give in to any of Charlie's attempts to comfort her.

Steven rocks the baby and gently strokes her cheek with this thumb, watching her intently as her eyes begin to flutter shut and her mouth begins to droop open, leaving a small wet patch of drool on the front pocket of his shirt. "What exactly are you doing with a baby anyway?" he asks, quirking one brow as he turns his head towards Charlie.

He just clears his throat and awkwardly scratches at his temple. "It's… kind of a long story."

Steven nods, accepting that the story is for another day, another time, and he stands from the couch, cradling Olivia to his chest. "Let's go to bed," he says, and all he's met with is a bewildered stare that makes him chuckle. "Well, where else are you going to sleep?" he asks with a smile, holding the baby with one hand and gesturing around the tiny one bedroom apartment with the other.

Charlie glances around and ends up chuckling as well, running a hand through his mussed hair as he gets to his feet and pads along down the hallway behind Steven. "Thank you for this."

"It's no problem," Steven says and the words come automatically; dripping off his tongue effortlessly.

All he gets in response is a sleepy smile as they settle into bed- Steven on one side, Charlie on the other and Olivia resting safely in the space between them.

/

Steven skips his classes the next morning to stay in with Charlie and he finally gets to hear the full story over a breakfast of cold coffee and cigarettes.

Olivia is still sleeping soundly in the next room so Charlie's voice is hushed as he tells Steven about Anna- leggy, fiery, _gorgeous_ Anna who sat beside him in one of his art classes. Anna who laughed all the time and who was so carefree and happy and who had more or less stolen Charlie's heart with nothing more than a passing glance.

Charlie doesn't skip details, not one, and he doesn't even notice his companion flinch when he tells him all about muggy nights out under the stars or lazy mornings consisting of making love on the carpet in the bask of warm sunlight. He has to pause for a moment and he takes a long drag from his cigarette before he can continue, telling Steven all about the day at the start of the summer when Anna had come to him in tears, insisting that her life was ruined.

"Jesus," he grumbles, tapping cigarette over the ash tray. "It's not like I wanted kids either but at least I was willing to _try_."

Steven swallows thickly around the lump that's formed in his throat and stares down at his coffee cup, watching the grinds swill around in the murky liquid. "So what happened?"

Charlie sighs and scrubs his free hand over his face. "We left school and got this little apartment in the village. I should have known from the start that it would be a mistake," he says with a bitter chuckle. "She just… shit, I don't know. She became this entirely different person. Cold and… distant, I guess." He pauses again to take another drag from his cigarette. "And then she left. Two days after Olivia was born, she just fucking left and made me responsible like _I_ was supposed to know what to do with her."

Steven blows out a heavy sigh as he leans against the back of his chair, reaching around to gingerly rub at a knot that's settled into his shoulder. "Did you love her?"

"No," Charlie responds automatically, reaching for his own cup of coffee. "I didn't but I wanted to, you know? She was just one of those people."

Steven just nods because he knows exactly what that's like; nods because 'one of those people' is sitting right across the table from him. "So why'd you come here?"

Charlie falls silent for a moment, twirling the butt of his cigarette between his fingers. "I knew I could count on you," he says finally. "I knew you'd help me."

Steven scoffs at that. Of course that would be his answer. That's _always _been his answer because Steven's own answer has never been anything but yes- no matter what Charlie needs or wants, it's always yes. "Yeah. Good old Meeks, right?"

Charlie smiles wryly. "Something like that."

He snorts. "Christ, Charlie. I don't see you for what? Two years? Two years and then you just show up here out of the blue, with a baby no less." Steven takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair. "Of all places, why are you here?"

"I had nowhere else to go," Charlie snaps. "I just… I needed someone's help," he admits, causing the very tips of his cheeks turn a light pink. "What? Do you want me to leave?"

Steven sighs but before he can say anything, Olivia begins to cry in the next room- high pitched wailing that shatters the tense and uncomfortable silence. "No," he says as he stands from the table and, almost instinctively, heads to the bedroom to tend to the baby.

Charlie hollers after him and promises to be out by the end of the week.

/

When the end of the week rolls around, Charlie's not gone or even close to being gone.

In fact, his presence has just exploded all over Steven's space.

Charlie's clothes are in his closet and all over his floor and the foot of his bed. There's a brand new bassinette crammed into the corner where his bookshelf used to be and there's a changing table where his dresser once was- reducing the already tiny room into a space that feels no bigger than a shoebox. There are bottles strewn out across his counter and packages of diapers on the floor, hand rolled cigarettes start showing up in his ashtray and Bob Dylan records get stacked on his coffee table.

As time passes and the days fade into weeks, he finds that his nights are no longer consumed by studying but rather by feedings and changings and early morning cuddling sessions- sometimes with an equally worn out Charlie, sometimes with a sobbing Olivia.

His bed is no longer just his bed, it's _their_ bed- Charlie claims the right side and Steven claims the left and they usually end up somewhere in the middle so that the very tips of their fingers can touch.

They never talk about that, though, and in fact they hardly talk about much at all except for planning out their days and deciding which one of them is going to get up with the baby at three am. (Steven takes Monday, Wednesday, Friday, Sunday and pretty much any other chance he can get.)

They don't ever talk about their past, never about the future and they just sort of let the chips fall where they may, so to speak.

But every morning, Charlie still swears to only stay a few more days or promises to be gone by the end of each week and every morning, it makes Steven smile and shake his head because he knows that they both know that's never going to happen.

/

After six months, Steven finishes school, they run out of room in the apartment and, on a whim; Charlie concludes that he's moving back to New York and that Steven is coming with him.

"What am I going to do in New York?" he asks from his position by the stove, placing one hand on his hip as he looks back at Charlie from over his shoulder.

Charlie just shrugs as he continues to bounce Olivia on his knee, smiling proudly when she gurgles and squeals and shrieks with laughter. "Whatever it was that you were going to do here?"

"Which is?" Steven questions with a smug smile.

Charlie blinks. "Er….engineering?"

"We're not moving to the village," he insists as he turns his attention back to the pan of sauce bubbling away on one of the burners.

"Way to suck the fun out of everything, Steven."

/

Much to Steven's dismay, they do end up moving to Greenwich because Charlie finds himself a job as an artist for a local magazine there.

Their apartment isn't any nicer than their old one but there's a whole hell of a lot more space- two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a closet that can actually hold something more than just one or two shirts.

The question of who's sleeping where is never mentioned or ever even thought about- Olivia gets a brand new crib for her brand new room, the one Charlie paints bright yellow, and Steven gets the baby monitors he insisted on, ensuring that they can hear her from across the hall.

/

Exactly a week to the day after they move in, Charlie kisses Steven for the first time in years as they stand over said crib and watch his, _their_, daughter sleep.

/

And a week after that, Charlie fucks Steven for the first time in years- hard and rough, then gentle and slow, and with that, they sort of stumble into a state of 'together'.

They don't ever mention it, never bring it up or question or analyze it, never acknowledge it because they don't have to.

They just know it and feel it and live it and that's more than enough.

/

"I'm sorry."

Steven pauses, drink halfway to his lips, and raises an eyebrow. "What?"

Charlie stares down at the surface of the table between them and fiddles with the cuff of his shirt. "I'm sorry," he repeats.

Steven sets his cup down as he clears his throat and shifts a little in his seat. "For what?"

"For everything," Charlie says sheepishly, his voice slightly muffled by the bustle of the café.

Steven places his elbow on the table and rests his chin on the heel of his hand. "I'm still not following you."

Charlie draws his bottom lip in between his teeth and nibbles on it for a moment before releasing it. "I'm just… I'm sorry for everything I've ever put you through."

"Charlie-."

"No," he interjects. "_No._ I have to say this." Charlie gulps and the corner of his mouth twitches just slightly when Steven reaches over and takes his hand, brushing the pad of his thumb across his skin.

"I… well, I put you through hell. When we were younger, I mean," he says and Steven just nods because he remembers it vividly- all the waiting and all the back and forth, being fucked into scratchy school issued sheets and then waking up to a cold and empty bed. He remembers it and even now, it's not something he's going to be able to forget.

"I realize now that I shouldn't have and I just… _God_, Steven. I'm so sorry."

Steven sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose between the fingers of his free hand. "It's alright, Charlie."

"No, it's-."

"Yes," Steven cuts in. "_Yes._"

"How can you-."

"It was a long time ago," Steven says as he gives Charlie's hand a gentle squeeze. "It doesn't matter now, does it?"

Charlie falls silent for a moment as he looks around, taking in the sight of the café that they've been coming to every Tuesday and Thursday night for the last several months- the café that's part of their routine; part of their now blended lives. "No," he finally responds. "I guess it doesn't."

Steven beams and, in spite of all the prying eyes, leans across the table and kisses him.

/

"Mama!"

Steven stares in horror at Charlie and Charlie just howls with laughter and awards Olivia with a kiss that's pressed to the top of her head. "I told you she'd grow up to be smart," he manages to choke out between chuckles.

Steven just narrows his eyes at him. "How long did it take you to teach her that?"

"_Mama!"_ Olivia shrieks again as she reaches her tiny arms out towards Steven and makes a grabbing motion with her chubby little fists. "Mama, mama, mama!"

"Not very long actually," Charlie says smugly as he hands the baby over.

Steven sniffs as he hoists Olivia onto his hip. "Oh, I'm sure you were," he snaps as he turns his back on Charlie, trying to ignore the continuous babble flowing out of their daughter's mouth as he carries her off for her bath.

"You are the woman after all!"

Steven responds by slamming the bathroom door. Loudly.

/

They're fighting.

Neither one of the can remember what they're fighting about but they are- screaming and yelling and throwing things and most likely keeping their neighbors awake.

Charlie hurls an insult and Steven tosses one right back. Charlie tells Steven he works too much and Steven tells him he works too little. Charlie accuses Steven of being too clingy and Steven accuses him of being too loose because _everyone _sees the way he eyes the busty blonde down the hall. Charlie is kind enough to remind Steven that they have no real ties to each other and that he could leave at any time and that's when Steven just snaps and throws a plate- one of the many that he was trying to wash- at the wall.

The silence that follows its shatter is deafening and drags on until a very faint whimper breaks it.

Steven and Charlie turn their heads towards the entry way to the kitchen and there's Olivia- clad in pink footy pajamas with her arms locked around her stuffed bunny. Her eyes are red rimmed and shiny and her cheeks are streaked with tears and just one look has them both running towards her.

They kneel down beside her and envelop her in a hug, reassuring her that everything is alright. Charlie murmurs softly spoken words and Steven dries her eyes and rubs her back and when their gaze meets over the top of her head, they share a smile and their fight is immediately forgotten.

/

"We're not allowed to have pets," Steven says dryly as he stares down at the puppy that's running in circles around his feet.

Charlie pouts and reaches out for the dog- a German Sheppard puppy he's named Emerson- and cradles it to his chest. "No one's going to find out."

"Charlie, I'm allergic to dogs."

"Olivia wanted him."

"I'm _allergic_," he repeats, punctuating his statement with a rather loud sneeze that knocks his glasses askew. "And no," Steven sniffles. "She wanted a rabbit."

Charlie opens his mouth to respond but before he can, he's cut off by the squeal that Olivia unleashes as she runs across the room and barrels into him, eagerly tearing the puppy from his arms. Charlie just grins, smug as ever, and happily hands him over. "I don't think she's too disappointed…"

Olivia hugs the puppy tightly and giggles when he licks her face. "We're keeping him?" she asks hopefully as she stares up at Charlie, her eyes wide and pleading.

And Charlie, who's never been able to deny her anything, simply nods, much to Steven's apparent dismay. "Of course we are."

Steven sneezes again.

/

"Papa?" Olivia asks as she shyly lifts her gaze to meet Charlie's, nervously fiddling with the edge of the tablecloth. "Are you and daddy going to hell?"

Charlie freezes, his fork slips from between his fingers and clatters onto his plate and Steven inhales sharply, causing him to nearly choke on his sip of wine. After several coughs and a rather enthusiastic thump on the back from Charlie, he clears his throat and manages to ask, "Where did you hear that, Liv?"

"Tommy Campbell was talking about it today at school," she tells him as she lowers her gaze back down to the surface of the table. "He said that his mommy talks about how having two daddies is wrong and that God's going to send you to hell."

Steven sighs and reaches beneath his glasses to rub his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "Olivia, people just… they don't understand."

Charlie snorts. "Yeah, that and Jenny Campbell is just a bi-."

"_Charlie_."

"Well, she is," he insists as he rises from his chair, rounding the table to kneel down in front of Olivia. "Listen kid, it _isn't_ something that's easy to understand. There are times when we don't even understand it."

Steven joins him on her other side and reaches up to run his hand through her cinnamon curls. "Don't listen to what anyone tells you, _mon ange_. There's nothing wrong with it."

"Do you love each other?"

Charlie and Steven exchange a glance because after all this time, after almost ten years, they've never said I love you. Ever. Not once. A beat of silence passes before Charlie quietly clears his throat and nods his head, making Steven's throat constrict and his heart flutter.

"Yeah, kid. We do."

/

When they retreat to their room after tucking Olivia in, Steven places his glasses on the nightstand and crawls under the blankets next to Charlie, automatically curling up against his side. "Sometimes I hate that we subject her to this."

Charlie sighs as he drapes his arm across Steven's waist and settles his chin on the top of his head. "There are worse things we could be subjecting her to."

Steven closes his eyes and nuzzles his nose against the hollow of Steven's throat. "I guess," he sighs. "She could be with a mother who didn't want her."

"As opposed to a mother that does?" Charlie teases as he brushes his lips across the crown of his head.

Steven elbows him in the ribs.

Charlie is silent for a moment before he licks his lips and clears his throat. "I do you know."

"What?"

"Love you."

Steven's eyes snap back open and he raises himself up onto his elbow, reaching out to cup Charlie's cheek in his hand. "I know," he murmurs as he strokes his cheek with his thumb. "I always have."

Charlie smiles and grabs Steven's hand, raising it to his lips to press a kiss to the back of it. "You must know me pretty well."

Steven laughs. "You're not as mysterious as you think, Dalton." He ducks his head to press a kiss to his lips. "And I love you too."

"I love you more?" Charlie tries, quirking his mouth into a smirk.

Steven just rolls his eyes. "Go to bed, Charlie."


End file.
